Walking Death
by TheGrueHunter
Summary: My first fanfic.  A man is trapped inside an infested city. He must discover the truth, stop the zombie plague, retake the city, and most importantly, he must survive.  My summary sucks...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**= I do not own anything that I have named, stated, referenced, or otherwise used in my story whether intentional or unintentional. I wish I did, but I do not have nearly enough money to do so. I am not using this story for commercial purposes. Please don't sue me.

Hello everyone!

This is the first fan fiction that I have actually written down, so any reviews (positive or negative) would be appreciated. But please, no flames, harassment, spam, or stupidity.

These stories were written for school, as a weekly "vocabulary story", in which the requirements were to write a story that was at least half a page long, containing eight vocabulary words, and the time allowed was usually about 3-5 days. This explains why most of the chapters are short, but they increase in length as the story progresses. They also get better, but that is my opinion. Because this was written for school, I try to keep the violence and swearing down to a minimum.

Enjoy!

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"Evil spirits are invented to frighten children. These men were walking death." (Max Brooks, The Zombie Survival Guide)

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Chapter 1

Subtle Hints

It was a relatively boring day. It was partly cloudy, average temperature, usual day. Nothing auspicious had happened to Bill, but then again, nothing bad had happened to him either. In his book, that counted as a good day, since usually his luck was pretty bad. It was now 4:00 in the afternoon, and he was headed back to his house after leaving his job, in which there was rumors of a schism forming. He thought that these rumors might be true, especially since he was convinced his austere boss was biased against him. He walked in the door, closed it, slid all three locks into place and then investigated the rest of the house. After he concluded that there was no sign of any force entry, and nothing moving apart from him and his dog, he turned on the news and apathetically watched the headlines briefly. Nothing interesting was shown, only arguments on whether dogs and cats were sentient life forms or not. It seemed a part of humanism was to show useless stuff or to create fear in other people. He picked a book from his anthology, and turned the radio to a news anchor that had a huge stigma for not being affable. He only half listened to the news, until he heard "apparently cannibals have invaded our state! Investigators found a house with half of the inhabitants lying dead, missing various parts of their bodies, more people with beatings all over their bodies, and one person with several bite marks on him. The later was found unconscious and soon died before the paramedics arrived. Almost everyone had bites on them, which the CSI team found was caused by other humans. I have heard a lot of crazy stories before, but this one was-" Bill shut off the radio and turned on the TV, which provided him no further information. Bill went to sleep and the next day, he checked his weapons and bought supplies from the Home Depot.

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A/N= I mentioned that Bill had a dog in this chapter, but after this chapter I decided that there was no logical way for Bill to give the dog to somebody else, and that the dog would serve little purpose in the story other than getting killed, so I took it out. I also hope that I didn't make the foreshadowing too obvious.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Preparations for the Battle

It had been another boring day, but after seeing what had happened in the last few days, Bill was sure that the streak wasn't going to last much longer. His job had been average routine, punch in, work on finishing the project, punch out. Even though a schism had started up in the middle of the company he worked for, it happened relatively slowly and quietly, and not many people cared about it. "There is no terror in the bang, only in the anticipation of it," he thought to himself. No wonder Alfred Hitchcock's career was auspicious. He had driven home carefully and more alert than before. By six o'clock that night Bill had already spent some of his time going throughout his house and preparing supplies. He had already used spare wood and steel from the Home Depot around the house and had bought several types of easily installed locks. Surprisingly, his house was pretty secure already, apart from the brittle windows. Most of the rest of the neighborhood houses were built for style rather than security, but his house wasn't. It had a more austere feel to it, which didn't bother Bill.

Around 7:00 p.m. he finished stocking the attic with a few non-perishable foods, emergency radios, lights, medicine, and other disaster supplies and then climbed down the ladder, walked to the living room, and turned on his television After about an hour of the usual conspiracy theories and water-skiing animals, it finally transitioned to the Headline News, which consisted of: An increase of rabid dogs sightings; the economy was still sinking; a mass-murderer had killed three adults in a party by putting potassium cyanide into their wine; an ambulance had fallen off of a bridge into a river while the driver was screaming on his cell phone that the body was ripping out of the bag; a new painting of the renaissance had been donated by a benevolent finder, and scientists believed that this would alter their epistemology; a bank had been robbed and the suspect was still on the loose and robbing more banks; and finally, a suicide bombing attempt in South America had been foiled. When the program was over, Bill turned off the T.V. and grabbed his PSG1 rifle and crowbar and took them upstairs in a brusque manner before heading to sleep.

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A/N= I felt like added a story that foreshadows (a harbinger) in the news reports.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The Calm Before the Storm

Bill woke up around 6:30 a.m. and sat quietly listening. After a while of hearing nothing he moved out of bed, got dressed, and went downstairs to eat. Acting in a capricious way, he turned on his T.V. before he decided to eat his meal. The morning news, as usual, provided him with some information that ultimately was useless. The day had already shown that it had no intent of being benevolent. After finishing the morning meal, he packed all of the things that he thought he would need in his briefcase, and was about to leave his house, when he heard the television say "…the state has not commented on exactly how they are planning to stop this outbreak from spreading, but they are encouraging everyone to stay home, lock their doors, take precautions against break-ins, and stay away from anyone who appears to have rabies…" Bill was surprised that the government was actually showing candor. Bill quickly went to each door and window downstairs and closed them, then slid the locks into place. Then he ran up the stairs and out onto the balcony over his garage. He quickly checked the streets and saw nothing moving, so he looked out into the city. There were no fires, ambulances, or guns firing, so he decided that everything was calm for now. He ran downstairs and boarded up all of the brittle windows in his house, then attached steel bars over those planks to further reinforce them.

He took a hatchet out of his garage and left it by the top of the stairs, then took the PSG1 rifle out to the balcony with several magazines and waited. Several people ran out on to the street to collect their mail, but most people decided to stay inside. Bill noticed that nobody was driving a car. Seeing that there was nothing walking down the street, he went back inside and brusquely took his TAR 21, to the balcony too. It wasn't meant as a primary weapon, just as a precaution in case Bill had to turn around and fight inside his own house. He did keep both of the weapons on the ground hidden by the wall. The last thing he wanted was for a citizen to see him waving a rifle around and call the police on him. Considering what was about to happen, he wanted to be seen in a good light by the police –as having a camaraderie with the government and not as a being criminal.

After about ten minutes passed, he stepped inside and turned on the television, setting it on the local news and making sure the volume was loud enough that he could continue to listen to it on the balcony. Nothing new had happened, it was still blaring the same warnings. When he thought about what the T.V. was saying, Bill was pretty sure that there was going to be an coup d'etat soon, and he wondered if the leader of the CDC was going to be a tyrant.

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A/N= I meant to have a zombie appear in this chapter, and for Bill to shoot it down, but due to time constraints, the fact that the story was long enough already, and I didn't know how to properly add the zombie in there, I left it out.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

First Blood

An hour had passed since Bill had finished setting up the Television. The time was now 10:15 in the morning, and the new station finally had received "breaking news." Bill listened as the anchorman reviewed an announcement made by the police department. It stated that there was no cure for anyone who was bitten by the infected, and that any one bitten was doomed. The government said that the only ways for dealing with those infected were to either removing the head, or destroying the brain. Bill was happily surprised that the station was being didactic; he thought that this could mean less people would die. He thought that maybe they would actually show candor. Then the new station turned to commentary, in which they actually came out and publically called these cases zombies. Acting capriciously, they had a couple of people brought in to the room; all of them claiming to have seen a zombie either attack them or attack other people nearby. Some of them began to say they had seen zombies running or jumping over trucks. Bill actually snorted at this and turned to look at the T.V. to see if they had really said that. After those people left the station, several scientists were interviewed, but they mostly were just trying to shock the audience. There were two scientists who were actually being honest, one of them had several wrong theories, and was confused about several behaviors of zombies, while the other scientist actually knew what he was talking about.

Bill sighed, and reflected on the new information. It mostly meant that the government was continuing its clandestine actions, and that the new stations were reporting assumptions rather than facts. Bill couldn't blame them too much, there were not that many facts made public. However, they should still try to avoid naming a guess as "evidence." With people acting how they are right now, it probably wouldn't pay to be cohesive with others, or even form camaraderie. He wouldn't be surprised if politics would try to fan the flames of hatred, or if extremists started popping up everywhere, whether they were existentialists, terrorists, or militants.

His thoughts had distracted him so much that he almost didn't hear the moaning coming from down the street. Quickly, he snatched up his PSG1 and looked down the street using the scope attached to the sniper rifle. There were two people standing there, facing each other. One of them, a man in his thirties, was staring at the other, not quite sure how to react. Bill guessed the other to be about nineteen, and he was wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and only one shoe. Dark blood was dripping down from a gash in his shin to his bare foot, and finally on to the ground. The teenager was moaning, and his arms were raised towards the man. There was now only ten feet between the man and the teenager, and the man still wasn't going to act. On the other hand, Bill had decided to act. As soon as the teenager reached out and grabbed the man, Bill pulled the trigger, and a bullet left the barrel of his gun, whizzed through the air, and then entered the teenagers head. The moaning stopped and the corpse hit the ground. The man froze, and then wheeled around in shock, but Bill had already ducked back inside his house. He did not want the police to put him in detention, even though he was sure that they would be far too busy to deal with him.

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A/N= I was preparing for Halloween, and I realized that my main character's name, Bill, is the same name as one of the Survivors in the video game **Left 4 Dead**. My subconscious is going to get me sued. I wrote most of this chapter late at night, so I am sorry if it isn't as good as the rest. It was a challenge fitting in "Existentialism," so I think that sentence doesn't fit in with the rest of the paragraph. Although it will be hard to fit in more fight scenes (try fitting epistemology into a shooting scene), it definitely will not be his last.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Calm after the Battle

Unfortunately, the egregious gunshot had been louder than Bill had thought it would be, and he guessed that the rest of the neighborhood would know the general area that the bullet had come from. Bill made a mental note to buy a silencer when he got the chance, and then he began to ponder what to do next. Bill quickly determined that he needed to stay inside for at least half an hour in order for suspicion to drop.

So, he hid inside in house, and set up a bar that hung from the walls using cohesive tape. Then, he hung up several blankets, so they covered most of his upstairs. Now, he could move around inside the upstairs of his house without anyone or anything spotting him from the downstairs rooms. It gave him the feel of doing clandestine activities. He then took the axe that he left near the top of the stairs and began to break the stairs, starting from the bottom and working his way to the top. Thankfully, because of the space beneath them, it didn't take too long for him to destroy the rest of the stairs. With the upstairs now inaccessible to all but the most coordinated zombies, and he was pretty sure even those wouldn't make it past five steps, Bill went back into the room that connected to the balcony.

The time was now 11:45 a.m., and so far only one zombie had been seen by Bill. However, as he looked at the television, he found out that it wasn't the case with the rest of the city. The town was in complete chaos, sirens were wailing, gunshots were coming from everywhere, and there was a constant moaning noise. Nothing was being spared, public pools, parks, oeuvres, pizza parlors, or hard ware stores. The new station reported that instead of hosting more discourses, all of the staff would be leaving for the safety of their homes at Noon, so they were quickly reporting didactic information to help the average citizen from "the Undead Threat." The report focused on four main points. "First, if a zombie is seen, destroy the brain. Removing the head only postpones the danger, for the severed head is still able to bite people, and this has lead to several deaths. The brain must be annihilated at all costs. Secondly, keep quiet. Do not make noise or be seen, for this could attract multiple zombies you. Third, identify your targets; what you may think is a zombie might actually be a human. If it has raised its arms at you and is constantly moaning, it is safe to shoot. Several cases of friendly fire have already taken human lives; we do not need to cause more. Finally, do not let a zombie bite you, if it does, you will die and turn into a zombie. There is no cure, except for a pinewood box." Bill felt sickened by the last sentence. True, they were honest and upfront about the situation, which was more than what Bill thought they would be, but they were cracking jokes about the crisis. It was almost as if they were trying to disparage the people who were worried about the situation. Other than that thought, he hoped that most people would follow their dogma. Although it was lacking in some places, it had covered most of the basics and it should hopefully help some people survive.

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A/N= I finally finished this, but I didn't manage to put much time into this story.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Skirmish

Bill turned his head away from the T.V. in order to watch the street. Two shapes were lumbering down the street in the direction where Bill's house stood. They shared no discourse, or even any acknowledgment that the other was there. Bill's relaxed demeanor quickly changed into an enmity. In a brisk motion, he reached back inside his house and pulled out the PSG1, silently disparaging himself for not reloading the gun earlier when he had the chance. He quickly looked through the scope and studied them. The taller one of them, had a gash in his arm that extended towards the bone, yet he didn't seem to notice the wound. The other, which was shorter and stooped, was simply staggering down the street about seven feet away from the first zombie. Since the taller zombie wasn't paying attention to the stooped figures, Bill guessed that the stooped figure was also a zombie, even though he saw no wounds. Bill lined up the rifle and took the first shot, which successfully penetrated the second zombie's skull. Then, in a state of equanimity, he swung the rifle towards the other, which hadn't even paused as its companion had been terminated. Almost immediately after Bill pulled the trigger, the zombie fell to the ground next to its fallen brethren. Before Bill had time to search the rest of the street, an egregious moan came from behind him. He quickly swung around with the gun aimed at the way he was facing. Seeing nothing, he ran to the side of the balcony and looked down straight into the eyes of a third zombie that was reaching up towards him, its mouth still releasing the groan. In a facile motion Bill briefly aimed the rifle and fired a bullet without even looking down the scope. The corpse crumpled and fell to the ground. Bill scanned the streets and found them both empty for the moment. There were no screams or moans coming from either street, so Bill reloaded his rifle, deeming it safe to turn his attention away.

Looking down at the corpse that was now on the walkway that led to his front door, Bill stopped to ruminate on two details, how did the zombie manage to get that close to his house without him hearing it, and should he dispose of the body? He didn't have an answer to the first question, zombies were not that elusive, but he decided not to dispose of the body. He couldn't find a safe place to burn it without setting half the neighborhood on fire, and he didn't have the time to bury the body out in the open, plus a zombie could spot him and try to attack when he was down on the ground. Up on the second floor, he had the advantage of staying put without the zombies able to see him, and he could stay there until either he ran out of food/water or an idiot decides to set his house on fire. He checked his rifle, and then gave the two streets a final sweeping look. Satisfied that he was safe for now, he walked back indoors and began to plan his next move.

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A/N= The vocabulary assigned made it much easier to write a fight scene, so I took advantage of it instead doing my original plan, which would have been about what Bill saw the rest of the neighborhood doing.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Maps, Radios, and Bullets

The clock now read 12:45. It had been 45 minutes since the news station stopped broadcasting. No other T.V. stations were broadcasting now, so Bill was cut off from the outside world. Bill had bought an emergency radio, but it had broken, so he sent it to a repair shop before the dead rose, and now it looked like he wouldn't be getting it back. Not wanting to waste his time, Bill had taken stock of his equipment. He had 96 rounds for the PSG1 rifle, and 90 for the TAR-21, his axe was too dull to be much use against any zombies, but his crowbar should be good for at least twenty, if he really needed to use it.

He pulled out a map of the city out and examined it. He had two choices, stay here and fight off the infection until help arrives, or evacuate to a safer location. He believed that the second choice was smarter, so now he had to figure out which way he was going to leave the town. Going west was obviously out of the question, and heading straight west would mean heading towards the police station, hospitals, and other places of danger. The police stations would be where everybody would be headed, and Bill didn't want to become a part of the panic. As for the hospitals, that would be where all of the dead bodies would have been brought, and he didn't know how many of them would reanimate. He was down to four possible directions, South towards the highways, Southeast towards the desert, Northeast towards the city, or North towards a nearby small town. At first he thought that heading south was the best choice, so he began to ruminate on that option. He thought to himself "It will be tough getting past all of the cars," and then the full meaning of that harbinger hit him. He still didn't know what way everybody was evacuating. If the highways to the South were choked with cars it would be better to choose a different option, and yet if they were not crowded, they would be the best choice he had of surviving. It became clear to him that he needed more information, and that he currently was unable to attain this information. His thoughts turned to his emergency radio, it was supposed to be fixed by today, and the store was nearby. He had already paid for the repairs, why not drop by and pick it up? The only problem was getting there.

He took out a fire ladder and strapped it to the balcony, then grabbed his TAR-21 and two magazines, both of them filled with 30 rounds of ammunition. He loaded one into the gun, and placed the other in his left pants pocket, making sure it was secure. It was now 13:10 or 1:10 p.m. and the shop was about twelve blocks away from his house. Even if he moved at a facile walk he could be back at his house by 13:45 or 1:45 p.m. Bill quickly checked the streets and then tossed the fire ladder down so it hung a foot off of his driveway. He climbed down the ladder holding the rifle under his arm. As soon as his feet hit the ground he swung around in a circle with his gun raised, checking for any movement. There was no sign of anything alive or dead, so he began to walk down the street, only briefly noticing the dead zombie next to his house. Pretty soon he was standing outside the shop. He had encountered no resistance, the only thing that he had seen moving was a van that quickly drove past him and then turned south and drove away. He was pretty sure that it was planning to run him over until he had turned around and calmly waved to them. That was apparently what had gotten rid of the drivers enmity and convinced him that Bill wasn't a zombie.

Refocusing on the present situation, Bill walked up to the store and loudly knocked three times. A rasping noise came from the inside of the shop along with a rhythmic pounding on the door. Bill quickly swung open the door and raised his rifle, but not fast enough. The zombie, which had been leaning against the door stumbled out and almost fell on Bill, who quickly backed away, with the zombie clutching at Bill's shirt. Bill brought the TAR-21 swinging around towards the zombie and smashed it against the zombie's head. This seemed to jar the zombie, who's grip slackened for a split second, but then tightened again pulling Bill closer to the zombie's head. Bill swung the TAR-21 the other way and as soon as it connected with the zombie's head, Bill ducked and rolled to his right, then quickly ran backwards as the zombie followed him, still uttering a horrible moan. Bill raised his rifle and shot the zombie through the middle of the forehead. After the zombie fell on the sidewalk, Bill checked himself and saw that, thankfully, there was no blood, or anything else on him. However, that brawl came close to disaster, it was a combination of luck and quick thinking that had saved Bill's life. It was almost incontrovertible that Bill wouldn't be that lucky again.

Bill entered the store through the open doorway. He quickly and quietly moved through the store with his gun raised, listening for any movement. He saw several bloodstains on the cash register, but other than that there was no indicator that anything had happened in here, which made Bill wonder, "Where was that zombie bitten, and why did he stay by the cash register until he died? Unless the manager was so imperious he didn't call an ambulance when the infected man collapsed, or else nobody noticed it, which they should have if he was lying there for hours." Bill examined the rest of the store, and found the doors leading to the back. He knocked on it, and when he heard no noises, walked through it and looked around. Then he casually strolled around the shelves, and saw his emergency radio placed on the third shelf from the bottom. He picked it up and tested it. To his relief, it was fully repaired and looked exactly new, except for the tag attached to it that read "Successfully Repaired" and showed the date.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Country Roads, Take Me Home

Bill began to walk home with the radio in his newly-acquired backpack, with his rifle in his hands. He saw a couple of people leaving their homes, and quickly driving away in their automobiles. One person had turned south, and it seemed that the rest of the refugees were following them. It didn't matter to Bill. What did matter was that he got home quickly and planned his next move. He was now sure that the infection was out of control, and that he needed to leave the city, but running away without a plan would be complete suicide. There were several complications, for example, Bill didn't have enough supplies for an extended trip, and he didn't have an idea of where to sleep if he needed to.

When he was walking down the street he noticed a piece of paper trapped underneath a broken part of a mail box. He stopped and examined the paper, which turned out to be a campaign poster for Joseph Allister. Bill remembered that campaign, many people had accused Joseph of hypocrisy and false promises. He lifted the fragment of metal and pulled out the advertisement and looked at the face, which was smiling back at him…

* * *

"Sir, you've got to realize that this situation is growing out of hand quickly!" There was no response from the other man. "Sir, it's incontrovertible that we can't allow this infection to spread any longer! It has already engulfed the entire city! Who knows how much larger it could get?"

"You're asking me to abandon people to this plague. You're asking me to leave them to die. 'Never leave a man behind,' remember?"

"People are going to die. We cannot save everyone; we don't have enough resources or time." Seeing that the other man had not stirred, he added, "And anyways, if people make it to the borders past the feral grounds, then we can examine them, and move them if they are clean."

"Yes, but how many will make it to the borders? There must be at least half a million zombies in there, and that number is going to grow. It will just continue to be harder and harder for any survivors to make it anywhere without being overrun by zombies."

"What can we do? Sending in the military would be a futile effort, the death toll could grow even bigger, and the zombie's numbers would swell. Zombies have a gratuitous advantage in cities; they are crowded and contain hundreds of hiding spots for zombies to ambush people. Everything is close range which makes it easier for a human to be grabbed by a zombie and infected. If we set up 'walls' in open space it gives our men the ability to spot the zombies early enough to take their time and eliminate them.

"What happens if all of the zombies are attracted to those men? Won't they be overrun? Won't that cause us to lose men and our defensive position? Won't that just make the entire problem even worse?"

"That could happen even if we went on the offensive. If we stick to this plan, we have a chance. If we decide to invade we could lose a lot more than just people."

The other man sighed, and then said, "Alright, we'll do it." He turned and looked west towards the city. "I'm probably going to lose my job for this, it will be called a flagrant error and I'll be accused of being an imperious, out of touch politician, but…maybe we can stop this disease from spreading any farther." The other man left, and then Joseph Allister said to himself, "Maybe we can win this battle."

* * *

Bill put down the piece of paper, and watched a gust of wind cause the paper to impinge against a wall. Then he turned and continued to travel down the street.

As Bill approached his house, he realized that he had left the ladder down. The obvious problem was that a person or a zombie could have climbed up it, and could still be inside his house. If, by some horrible luck, a zombie had managed to climb the ladder, then when Bill climbed up there, it will have the advantage of being too close for Bill to react in time. If a human had gotten up there, then Bill's food supplies could have been eaten by now, plus the human might be armed and willing to shoot first and identify his/her targets after they were dead. Bill made a mental note that he was going to need some kind of armor in addition to a silencer.

However, he needed to climb up there quickly, and he needed to do it carefully. He held the rifle in his right hand, with his finger inside the trigger guard and used his left arm to climb the ladder, moving only one limb at a time, and making sure that this arm was wrapped around each rung when he moved. Then, when he reached the top he swung his gun and aimed it everywhere inside the balcony. Seeing that there was nothing there, he leaped into it and then aimed his rifle inside the house. Listening for any sounds of movement, Bill picked up one of the empty bullet shells from the ground and threw it into the hallway, making sure to make as much noise as possible. No further noises came from his house, so Bill deemed it safe enough. Any zombie would instantly investigate the noise. A human would either hide or shown him/her self, either action would have created some noise. As Bill lowered his rifle he heard it. A wailing moan from behind him.

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A/N= I mean for this story to be a filler, but then due to complaints/wishes/threats from my dad, I added another character earlier than I had planned. My dad originally wanted a puppy in the story, but I didn't add that for reasons stated in the A/N for the first chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

All in a Day's Work

Bill moved spun around and stared down the street. A zombie had seen him, and it was walking steadily towards his house, its arms raised and its mouth gaping. Bill set down his TAR-21 and picked up his PSG1, aiming it at the zombies head. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a shape moving around the corner of his street and turning toward him. A split second later, he heard it moan. It had been attracted by the first zombie's moans, and came to see where the food was being served. Determined, Bill refocused himself on the closest zombie, thinking, "I need to kill them quickly before they attract more zombies." As if on cue, another zombie walked out of the park to join the others in the attack. Bill looked down the scope and, thanks to his innate accuracy, fired a bullet directly into the first zombies skull. One down two left to go. Just as he said that to himself, another two walked onto his street, further harrowing the situation. He sighed, and turned his rifle to the second zombie, a woman in her thirties, with short hair. As he was about to pull the trigger, something impinged with her head, she fell to the ground and didn't rise again. Surprised, Bill took his eye away from the scope and saw two zombie corpses. He hadn't fired his gun, so who had killed the second zombie? As if two answer his question, a gunshot cracked from his right, and a third zombie crumpled and fell. He swung around to see his neighbor, Jack, on top a roof, holding a M21 aimed at the fourth zombie. Bill looked back over the street, and saw that in addition to the one zombie that was about to be shot, three more were slowly moving down the street, with about five feet between each one. All three were moaning loudly, and Bill was pretty sure that he heard more moans coming from the park. The gratuitous danger of the problem was being incorrigible, it just wasn't about to go away. This was going to be a long fight.

Bill raised his gun and quickly lined up the sights with the first of the new three zombies. Another crack rang out from Jack's roof, and Bill pulled the trigger again, the combined efforts brought two zombies in less than a second. Maintaining his countenance, Bill switched targets and pulled the trigger again, and to his satisfaction, another zombie was dispatched. He heard Jack fire another bullet, but this one went skimming through a zombie's neck. Although it would have been fatal to a human, it only stalled the zombie, and wasted a bullet.

More zombies were walking down the street, each one letting out a moan that attracted a few more. For Bill and Jack, however, this didn't change anything. It was the same pattern: target, aim, shoot, reload if they needed to, rinse and repeat. Bill brought down his fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh before he lost count. At the end of the battle, twenty two minutes later, he had fired seventeen bullets and brought down a total of fifteen zombies, which definitely wasn't a flagrant ratio, although he didn't know it. Instead, he put a fresh magazine in his rifle, just in case of another attack, and then turned and waived to Jack. Maybe he could find some useful information.

* * *

A/N= I rushed this story, and I left out several parts that I had planned to add to it. As a result, the battle scene is a lot more vague than what I wanted it to be. For example, I was going to add a conversation between Bill and Jack, but I ran out of time, so it will be in the next story. I also thought about adding a six note, six beat tone and see who got the reference, but I thought that I was already playing with fire with the Bill L4D thing, so I decided to leave it out. Plus, it wouldn't make sense in the first place.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Silence

Bill turned and waved to Jack, who saw him and called out "Do you see any more of these heinous freaks?"

Bill said "Nope, no more fiends," continuing the insults against the zombies, discerning that Jack had some sort of immense hatred of them.

Jack said something to himself, and then said to Bill "That's good; it means we might get some peace and quiet for a couple of minutes. Then he turned around, examining the rest of the street. Bill noticed that although Jack said things would be peaceful, his body was tense.

Hoping to gain information on the city, he asked Jack "Are you planning to evacuate, or stay here and fight it out."

Jack called over his shoulder "I am going to move south-east and get out of this harrowing city." This took Bill by surprise, as he thought going there was deadly because of the desert.

He responded, "Are you sure the highways to the south wouldn't be safer?

"Eh, I'll be fine. I've got enough supplies anyways, and I know where I am going." Bill saw Jack glance towards his rifle and grimace. Bill didn't believe that Jack truly thought that he was going to be fine. Jack continued with a better countenance, "Besides, those highways are jammed with traffic and broken down cars, you'd have to walk through there, which would defeat the purpose of going there." That provided a lot of useful information for Bill. First, it meant that leaving the city through the highways wouldn't be a smart choice. Second, it meant that lots of other people were evacuation, and probably panicking too. The final note was that Jack was being incorrigible, and did not care too much about his safety. Combined with his attitude towards the zombies, Bill guessed that something horrible must have happened to Jack, and it left the man uncaring. Bill could commiserate, but he had to plan now. Thanking Jack for his help, he walked back inside and began to plan his next move.

He flicked on his radio and considered his two remaining options, north or northeast. At around 17:24, someone started broadcasting emergency information, and statements meant to boost the morale of the survivors. At 18:10, the radio ordered everyone to evacuate from the town in the north A.S.A.P.; it was going to be burnt in about 1 hour. People were sent in to remove the refugees, but they were not going to be able to control the entire crowd, and they needed some help. As the radio repeated this information Bill considered this turn of events, and then thought that it left only one escape route left. Through the northeast. Through the center of the chaotic besieged city. "Great…" Bill thought to himself. But, it was almost night time, and moving through zombie infested area at night was enough to give anybody nightmares. It would be risky and unnecessary, when he could sleep and wait until morning to move. An hour later, he saw the flames rise from the north, and watched Jack leave, his M21 held close to his body, and walked down the street, moving southeast. Tired, and deciding that he was safe enough, (this time he remembered to pull the ladder up with him), Bill turned around and began to walk back into his house. He saw the flash of light before he heard the explosion.

* * *

A/N: Another rushed story... so much potential wasted. *sigh*


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

A Time to Rest

As the light dimmed almost as rapidly as it had appeared, Bill whirled around in confusion and shock. He stared out of his balcony that faced towards the north and saw nothing that caused him any alarm. Hesitantly, he climbed onto the wall of the balcony, then turned and pulled himself up onto the roof, PSG1 in hand, not quite sure what to expect. Even though he knew that it wasn't good, the sight shocked him into almost falling off of the roof. To the south east was a giant fireball, rising up and growing slightly before it collapsed on itself and disappeared. "Oh...my...God..." escaped from his lips. He raised his rifle and used the scope to discern where the explosion had formed. As he stared through it, he noticed that it was a huge distance away from him, but he could still see spots of orange light where fires were burning. He also saw a tiny outline of the top part of a corpse fall into one of the fires. He lowered the rifle, too shocked to think straight. When his mind did start working again, several thoughts surfaced, each one more distressing than the last one. 'What on earth was that? Who was the moron that caused that? What will happen if a fire is started and the flames reach my house?'

He quickly checked the distance and the time. The time was 21:47, and the fire was at least ten miles away, with little to no brush in between it and his house. Bill was quickly becoming exhausted, so he decided to sleep. He still considered the danger of the fire, even though it was a small one. He climbed back down from the roof while his brain was busy thinking about his next course of action. Walking back inside his house, he decided to sleep, setting his alarm clock for 2:00 the next morning. He needed rest, but too much sleep added too much danger, in case the fires did come his way. The heinous thought of waking up to find his house on fire in the middle of a zombie uprising would be a tragedy anyone would commiserate with. Bill soon slipped into bed, and fell asleep.

He awoke later to find sunlight entering the room. He pushed himself up from the bed, and then realized that there was sunlight pouring into the room. Now fully awake, he lurched to the side and checked the time: 6:26. 'Figures, I slept through the alarm. So much for 'an innovative design.' His annoyance was quickly replaced with fear. Panicking, he ran out onto the balcony, then climbed up onto the roof, already conjecturing an idea of how close the fire was. However, when he stood on top of the low slope of his roof and looked out over the houses towards the desert, he began to feel less disconsolate. He didn't see anything burning. He didn't even see anything but sand. 'Where did all the brush go?' It was as if all of the green dots in that area had suddenly disappeared. There was no danger of a fire now, but the scene had an eerie feel to it, and the fact that zombies were now roaming the streets didn't help either. Bill got off of the roof, and began packing his equipment. If that bomb was to be taken as an omen, then Bill had probably leave his house and the city as fast as possible. The only thing that he lamented was the lack of certainty of where he was going.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

A Time to Plan

Finally, he was done. Enough food and water for two days of travel and all of his ammo/magazines were packed inside his backpack, and his TAR-21 was strapped between his backpack and his back, and his PSG1 was in his hand. The titanium crowbar was hooked onto a loop, and secured. He gave a quick glance to the clock as he stepped out into the sunlight: 7:17.

Bill hoisted himself over the balcony's wall and climbed down the ladder and began walking away from his house, not looking back. He did not lament the parting, he was not disconsolate. He knew it was too big of a risk to stay, so he left. It was a simple decision. He left the ladder down, anyone who wanted to visit his house could, although they would have no reason to, and they wouldn't find anything useful there.

He turned and studied the alley, the tall buildings on either side of him blocked the sun, throwing the alley into shadow. Several corpses littered the ground, most of them were off to one side or the other. Some of the dead bodies had appeared to be zombies, as they had massive wounds, but there was the occasional dead human here or there. Most of them had been shot through the chest, whether it was friendly fire or not was unknown.

The middle of the alley was filled with trash and debris, but there were several smears of blood where the bodies had been dragged to the sides. Taking his left hand away from the PSG1, Bill looked at his watch.13:03, and Bill wasn't even half way through the city. He wouldn't be out of the city by sunset, and it was too dangerous to travel at night. The zombies had the advantage, as they had the venerable trait of relying less on their eyesight than humans.

Returning his hand to his rifle and holding it in a ready position, Bill carefully walked traversed through, watching each corpse for any sign of movement. Bill tried to look like he was filled with malice, as a warning to other humans. The "dead bodies" might be zombies, or even a human waiting to ambush and rob Bill. He eventually reached the other side then stopped and let out a sigh of relief. That was when he heard it. A dull thud came from behind him, acting as an omen. Turning around he looked back down the alley. Nothing had changed. Curious, he studied the bodies, and realized that the arm of one had fallen from the chest to the ground. Aiming the rifle at the body, not knowing what to expect, Bill waited. He didn't have to wait very long. The body rolled over onto its face, then moved its arms to its side and began to push itself up. It looked forward in a pensive way at Bill and stopped halfway up for a second, as if not sure how to react, then it made up its mind and heaved itself up into and standing position, releasing a wanton moan that reverberated off of the walls. There was a crack and a splash as the zombie was shot, and fell into a puddle of dark liquid.

Bill stared down at the body, and then looked to the side of it, where the puddle had splattered across. Bill bent down on to one knew, and examined the rubble there, finding a piece of paper stuck beneath it. He moved the debris off of it and picked it up. It was an advertisement for a cinema store, giving a picture of the building, prices, and catchy taglines. Bill was more interested in the picture of the store, until that he saw the building was three stories tall, which was two stories higher than the surrounding buildings, and had a flat roof with a fire escape. If he couldn't make it through the city, then this would be a good place to stop and sleep. Now, Bill had an idea of where to go, he just needed to worry about how to get there.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

A Time to Act

Bill turned away from the alley, and walked out into the middle of the next street. He turned to his left and saw a man walking away from him. He was about 5 feet tall, looked in his twenties, had blond hair, and was wearing green-brown pants, a white T-shirt, and seemed to be oblivious to the wreckage all around him, even the illustrious fire flickering inside a car to his right. 'Ignorance is bliss, I guess...' Bill thought to himself, and was about to walk out and go to the right when he saw a movement in the shadows ahead of the man. A quiet moan could now be heard, as a zombie stumbled out of the shadows and began to pursuit the walking man. The zombie had a fist sized hole through it, which looked like it was caused by a shotgun at point blank range. Bill shuddered at the thought of the unfortunate fate of the person who had used the weapon, and then felt consternation as he realized that the same scene was about to be repeated in front of his eyes.

Hastily, Bill raised his gun, and then blinked in surprise; the human hadn't changed pace or even acknowledged the zombie that was now trailing the man, about four feet behind the man. 'What was this person thinking? Did he not realize that he was about to die?' Because of the position of Bill, the man, and the zombie, Bill couldn't fire his gun without fear of hitting the man two, which would defeat the purpose of killing the zombie. The man turned slightly to the right and the stopped and reached out for something. The zombie got closer, and got within arm's reach of the man. Just as the zombie reached outwards with malice, the man spun around, swinging a wheelbarrow at his adversary's knees. The zombie tumbled over and fell into the wheelbarrow, and the man sprinted forward pushing the wheelbarrow with its new passenger inside towards the burning car. Half a foot away from the car, the man stopped and lifted the handles of the wheelbarrow, tilting it at a ninety degree angle, sending the zombie rolling across the hood of the car, through the broken windshield, and depositing it in the fire. The zombie instantly light up, but he still pulled himself up, and tried to drag out the windshield as the fire spread across him. Unfortunately for the zombie, the stranger had heaved the wheelbarrow onto hood of the car, and then jammed it into the frame of the car so that it blocked the windshield, trapping the monstrosity in the inferno.

Bill had to replay the venerable action in his mind a couple of times before he fully understood what had happened, and by the time that had happened, the maverick had left, not noticing Bill or considering him unimportant. Whoever the person was, he had shown no fear, and did not believe the zombies to be omnipotent. His tactics were based on being malleable, and would have been a very useful ally.

Around 18:00, Bill was standing outside the "Reel Time" cinema store, which looked more like a warehouse than an actual store. He walked inside and shut the door behind him, locking it. Then he made his way to the roof. There was a stairway that led to door that connected to the roof. The roof was flat, with nothing on top of it except for several random items, like a piece of rebar, several concrete bricks, half of a table, and an unassembled satellite dish. Bill quickly rearranged them in front of the door to make a barricade, jamming the rebar between the hand of the door and a brick, the satellite dish on the right side of the door, the table of the left, and the bricks to stop the pieces from moving. Deciding that there was nothing left to do, he fell into a light sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Fear

Bill sprang up, instinctively reaching for his gun, eyes darting around looking for the source of the noise. There were several loud thuds coming from the door, growing steadily louder. In a second, Bill was wide awake, and sprinted to the door. Once he was there, he knocked on it twice and called out "Hello," trying to remain calm. His response was a single moan and the thuds started again with renewed enthusiasm. A moment later, a second moan had joined the first, along with another pair of fists crashing against the barricaded door. The door shuddered, and then cracked open before the barricades stopped it. Bill could see fingers thrust through the crack, trying to open the door and he could hear more footsteps and a chorus of moans approaching the door. His fear rising, Bill backed up twenty eight feet away from the door to give himself ample space, and then settled into a firing position, aiming his TAR-21 at the door, and waited. The beats were becoming more chaotic and rapid, and Bill could see multiple hands grasping through the door. The door suddenly lurched, and the rebar that was jammed against it cracked, and then finally snapped scattering across the floor. With the rebar gone, the door opened another foot, and then the remainder of the barricade gave, allowing the door to swing fully open. The zombies that were pressed against it stumbled out onto the roof, then regained their balance and began moving slowly towards Bill. Bill calmed himself from the consternation of the door breaking apart, and began firing. Bullets flew through the air, embedding themselves into undead flesh. Bill fired ten bullets in seven seconds and was rewarded with eight kills. However, the closest zombies were now fifteen feet away from Bill, twelve more zombies had staggered out of the doorway, and there were sounds of more zombies climbing the stairs. Six more cracks rang out from the apparatus, and four adversaries dropped and didn't get up. "This is bad, very bad," though Bill as he fired two more shots and silenced two moans. Bill's heart was pounding against his chest as he realized the hopelessness of the situation. His aim was getting worse as his hands began to shake, and an endless stream of zombies was pouring out onto the roof. The mob was now six and a half feet away from Bill, and growing closer. The situation had gone from bad to very bad, and there was no need for an arbiter to realize there was only one option left: run!

Bill sprang up, and dashed for the side of the building. The zombies, undeterred, followed. With his left hand holding on to the PSG1, and his right holding the TAR-21 like a pistol, Bill jumped off the edge of the building and crashed into the fire escape. Ignoring the pain in his feet and ankles, he picked himself up and ran to the stairs leading down, only to hear a loud thud from behind him. Bill turned and saw a zombie that had chased him over the edge. And he wasn't the only one. Another one climbed over the short wall and fell down, missed the fire escape, and smacked into the pavement below. Bill raised the TAR-21 and pulled the trigger, missing the brain and slashing across the zombie's neck. Bill aimed again as the zombie picked itself up and fired. This time, the bullet found its mark. As the zombie crumpled, another one fell on top of it, and then a fourth zombie fell off of the building into the fire escape. Soon, multiple zombies were dropping down as Bill ran down the stairs to the bottom level of the fire escape, next to the second story of the building. Although he was terrified a single thought ran through his mind, "Forget cats and dogs, it's now raining zombies." A rare moment of humor, exactly when it was not welcomed. Bill turned and faced the building across the gap. He raised his right leg and lashed out, kicking at the fence. Luckily, Bill did not need to be even close to omnipotent: the fence was already weak from rust and the metal was quite amenable. The first kick bent it, the second kick crumpled it, and the third kick broke a section of the fence off, causing it to fall and join the paralyzed zombie below. The result was a gap large enough for a man to easily run through it. Two zombies had begun to stagger down the stairs while more were getting up and walking to join the other two. Bill turned and fired the TAR-21, missing completely. Although his nerve began to desert him, he fired again and watched in satisfaction as the first zombie dropped to the ground. The zombie behind it tripped over its deceased comrade, and fell to the ground; its head inches from Bill's foot. It reached for Bill's ankle, while Bill placed the barrel of the TAR-21 against the zombies head and pulled the trigger, stopping the zombie from clutching him. The other zombies were already descending the stairs, arms outstretched, but it was too late. Bill had backed up, then sprinted and launched himself from the building in a gigantic leap of faith.

For a second, he was floating through the air as the zombies behind him reached out, and then Bill crashed into the roof, skidding for half a second before coming to a stop. He lay there for a second; letting out a groan of pain, then grimaced, picked himself up, and turned. The zombies were stubborn, and still tried to chase him across the gap, not heeding the drop that awaited them. Acting like lemmings, they travelled about one foot towards Bill, and fourteen feet down. Even as more zombies poured off of the roof and fire escape, Bill peered over the edge and shook his head. He raised his arm and looked at his watch to learn that it was 1:47. The night wasn't over yet, and he no longer had a place to sleep. He might as well move through the city. If he had been fully awake and thinking correctly, he would have immediately dismissed this thought as too risky. Instead, he only slightly thought of the danger and told himself that he would hide if there was trouble, and using buildings as temporary fortresses.

He turned around and opened a trap door then climbed down the ladder into a hall. He then walked into the next room and left the building via the back door. To the right of him, there were scattered bodies everywhere. Most of them had hit their head too hard and were killed, but some had only snapped their spine, rendering them paralyzed, but not destroyed. The last of the corpses fell off of the building. Most of them smacked into the ground, but one was lucky enough to land on the other components in his alliance, and was spared the force of the full impact. His legs were too damaged to move, but he used his arms to drag himself towards Bill. Bill reached down to the ground, picked up a jagged piece of metal, and stabbed it through the zombie's eye socket, dispatching the beast.

* * *

A/N= Cloudy with a chance of zombies...


	15. Chapter 15

Interlude

He walked out of the building calmly, his hands at his sides. He strode to the middle of the empty field, and paused, breathing in the fresh air around him, and looking towards the city, or at least the part of it that was not obstructed by the fence, tents, or recently completed barricades. A normal person would be afraid just by looking at the city, and terrified if they knew exactly how desperate the situation was. Part of the city was still burning, and many buildings had fractures. Some of them were missing parts, and some of them didn't exist anymore.

Instead of showing any fear, the man seemed content to watch the city as if it was nothing more than a caterpillar climbing up a tree. Although he was aware of his surroundings, he gave no indication that he knew about the women standing ten feet behind him, aiming an H&K G36 rifle at his head. The G36 was an apparatus designed for killing, but the bigger threat to the man's safety was the woman.

Her name was Sarah. He didn't know if that had been her original name, or if she had changed her name, but it made no difference. She was African at birth, but had moved with her family to America at the age of thirteen. By fifteen, she had completed assimilation, and anyone could have mistaken her for a native born citizen. She joined the marines the first chance she got, and was now stuck here, constantly being moved to whatever job that needed to be done. With the current crisis, that meant that she had a new assignment almost every day, anything from constructing a barricade to extermination to guard duty.

It was protocol for two armed guards to follow him, but he had made no attempt to escape or hide, even when he had ample opportunities to slip past security. The people in charge eventually realized that he had no intention of leaving, or at least not yet. They were thankful for this, as they needed everyone they could get, and wasting soldiers on him was an annoyance to them.

Without even moving his head he asked, "So, what are you thinking?"

She said only two words. "You're evil." He grinned to himself. Her assertion had only pointed out the obvious fact: she hated him. All the guards hated him (they weren't supposed to be benign). Everyone hated him, but it didn't matter. He had learned to ignore hatred a long time ago.

It was... how many years ago was it? He had lost count, but it was at least twelve years earlier that he had stopped caring about what other people thought, and began only working for his own interest. He knew he was a teenager when this had happened, and older than thirteen, but he forgot when exactly. It was around that time when his mind simply changed. It had begun to process information differently, and he began to think, discover, and learn with an assiduous disposition. He understood human nature, truth, society, and the way the human race thought better than most humans. Of course, his astute knowledge had helped him manipulate who he needed to, and helped him accomplish his goals. Making and breaking alliances, and using every trick in the book to progress. He knew that whatever he used was fair game, there was no way to cheat in life.

Now, he stood here, watching the outcome of a combination of his hard work, trickery, brilliance, bad luck, and curiosity. Ironically, his imprisonment here had actually given him an opportunity to study the events. He was neither satisfied nor dissatisfied by the partially destroyed city or the death, it was simply something to analyze and learn from. As was the plague, the resistance, and the people's reaction.

A man that looked like the stereotypical marine walked out of the building, and called out, "Hey, Doctor Frankenstein, Alexander would like to see you." A small frown crossed the man's face before he caught himself and returned to a neutral expression. Another interrogation. These were as close to torture as anything was for him. True, they never caused him any physical pain or mental pain (the political backlash would be severe), but their ignorance and bias was frustrating. Still, he might learn something useful, and he found it entertaining when they tried to guess what he meant, and usually became convinced with the wrong answer.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Nightmare

Bill turned down the street, and walked down a sidewalk, clutching the PSG1 in his hands. He stopped at the corner, and listened, heard noises. Then, the shuffling sound broke into a chorus of moans, echoing all around him. Terror gripped him as he looked around his position, trying to figure out if the zombies had spotted him. Instead he heard someone running, and then a shout.

He peered out past the corner and saw a man in his thirties, dashing towards a pack of zombies, shouting at the top of his lungs, and wielding a katana. The man ran, then stopped and swung the blade, beheading a zombie. The head flew through the air and landed with a thud in the gutter. The astute man continued, and brought his blade slicing down through a zombies skull. The katana stuck at the nose, and the man had to yank it free, spraying darkened liquid upwards. Without hesitation, the man lifted the katana, and moved to decapitate another zombie that had gotten too close. The blade cut through half of the zombies neck, hit the spine, and snapped, sending one half of the blade spinning through the air, where it impaled into a zombies chest, turning its moan into a rasp. The other half of the blade rested in the man's hand, who just stared at it dumbstruck. The zombie whose neck it had snapped against lay on the ground, with only its head moving, trying to snap at the man's feet.

As the remaining group of zombies began to surround the man, he regained his senses and bolted towards Bill, who stepped around the corner. The man froze, then a hopeful expression crossed his face. He sprinted faster than ever towards Bill. Bill walked forward, planning to exterminate the zombies, but to his surprise, he was grabbed by the chest, and then thrown onto his back towards the zombies. Bill's backpack absorbed most of the blow, but it still left him dazed.

He lifted his head and saw the man running away, up the street Bill had just walked down. Bill picked himself up, and thought "What the... he just... HE USED ME AS A DISTRACTION!" Rage surged within Bill, and he threw himself up into a fighting stance. The PSG1 was swung towards a zombie's head, and then fired, again, and again, and again. Five zombies fell, but others took their place.

Bill took off down the street, the same way that the man had fled, with the zombies slowly trailing behind. Unfortunately, this path led Bill further and further to the West, instead of North-east, like he had intended. Every attempt Bill made at correcting his course was thwarted by different circumstances.

Bill dashed down the street, his heart pounding. At the end of the street, he forced himself to stop, and look around. Once he was sure that the area was secure, he sat on the edge of a fountain, pausing to refill his water bottles (fresh water was in short supply), and then rested, his PSG 1 on his knees. Two seconds later, all hell broke loose.

Gunfire erupted from behind him, and he threw himself down onto the ground, wrapping his arms around his head and using the fountain as a barrier between him and the bullets.

A voice cried out "Hold it! Hold it!" The gunfire came to a stop, and Bill looked over the fountain. At the other end was a group of people taking cover behind a couple of boxes and a dumpster. One of them shouted out "I'm guessing you're not a zombie?" Bill didn't respond, except for preparing himself for another firefight in case they were bandits. "Oh great, such a cheery response!" cried the caustic leader. Bill stood up, trying to keep his muscles tense and his face cryptic. Ignoring this, the man carried on, saying "Since you can understand what we are saying, I will make this cogent. Give us all your money, weapons, etc. or you will die right here." Bill grimaced but ignored the assertion. About half of the group seemed to be slightly overweight, but all of them were armed. Bill opened his mouth as if to say something, and then turned and sprinted into a garden behind him. From there, he took cover behind a thin rectangular brick column that was about one foot wide, three and a half feet long, and ten feet high.

Behind him, the man had brought out his side arm and fired twice. The "Desert Eagle" is a famous handgun known for its immense power and recoil, however most civilians who bought it never stopped to consider the loud noise. The assiduous shots echoed around the walls, rebounding off of the stones, and spreading outwards toward the shadows. Within seconds, moans could be heard everywhere, and multiple ghouls were shambling towards the origin of the noise, walking out of every alley and street nearby. Bill made a quick estimate of over thirty zombies against twelve humans, and himself.

He considered fighting, but then abandoned that idea when the battle turned into a chaotic conflagration. The group began to shout obscenities and fire wildly into the crowd, often missing their marks. They had made their choice to fight anything that they could see, he was going to make his. One of the bullets smashed against the brick pillar that Bill was hiding behind, spraying fragments out onto the garden. Staying there was suicide.

Bill waited until they were distracted, then dashed out of the garden, across the street, and then turned left into an almost finished building. There were no stairs in the building, and the elevator shaft was missing the elevator, but the cables were still in place. He slipped his gun in between his backpack and his back, making sure it was secure. He walked out on to the floor of the elevator shaft, and then jumped up and began climbing the cables. At the second floor he jumped out, and walked outside the building, going to the railing and looking over.

No more shots rang out, the battle was already over. Three corpses were on the ground, surrounded by twenty zombies, both eliminated and active. The rest of the zombies were chasing the survivors. Most of the zombies were still "alive" and were chewing at the fresh carcasses. However, one looked up and saw Bill staring down in disgust. It opened its mouth, letting the flesh drop out of it, and let out a moan, alerting the other zombies that prey was nearby. Within seconds, the zombies had dropped their food, and moved to the wall, reaching up towards Bill. A copious amount looked like they were trying to climb up, but all they succeeded in doing was scratching the bricks with their nails.

What scared Bill was not their determination; but instead near the front of the mob was a zombie in a U.S. military uniform. He thought, "The military is already here? How many of them have been defeated?" Whatever the zombie meant, it wasn't good. It didn't help that Bill didn't have a good idea of what was happening.

Bill turned to his left, then ran and leaped over a gap between his building and the next, then landed next to some boxes. From there he climbed up a ladder and walked across a roof that was mostly composed of four large panes of glass.

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A/N= See if you can guess the area that this story was based on. Hint: it's not downtown, its...


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Nowhere to Run

Bill was looking down over the edge of a three story parking garage. Bodies littered the streets, and gunshots could be heard in the back ground. The shots were random and uncontrolled, meaning that the civilians were the people firing the guns, and the military hadn't yet entered the area. "_Nor would they yet,_" Bill thought, "_Being a cordial group, __the consensus of any people outside an infected area would be to storm the place and rescue the survivors, but the leaders won't want to send in men for a little chance of success. The best way to take care of this situation is to move slowly and carefully, but the more time taken, the less people will survive_. In a dictatorial government, using the military was a lot simpler, for the limits were the strength and size of the army. In a democracy, however, the public has a bigger say in what happens, but it can be hard to please a majority. Many Americans want a course of action taken, but they don't want to pay the cost for that course of action to be taken.

Bill shook his head and walked back inside the building, then crossed a sky-bridge into a small shop. Normally, this shop would have at least twenty customers examining the contemporary clothes that it sold, but today it was empty. Several stands had been knocked over, and the cash register was open, with a couple of dollar bills left inside. Bill walked towards a small room in the back that was designed for employee notices. There were three notes posted on the bill board, one decorous note said "Remember to lock the doors and cash register before you leave." The second note was just a hastily scribbled cryptic number, "3473," and the third piece of paper was a caustic note scrawled "TRY EATING MY BRAINS!" Sure enough, in the corner was a corpse of a man holding an empty shotgun. Three bullet wounds were across his chest, giving the idea that he was killed by a looter.

Bill walked towards the front doors. This store, like many, had glass doors and large windows to display what was being sold. Unfortunately, this time the window displayed Bill to the zombie that had just staggered into view. Within a second, it was pressed against the glass, and was trying to break open the door, moaning as it did so. Bill backed up away from the door, as other zombies heard the noise and moved towards it. A copious mob of zombies formed around the building, and the zombies broke through the window, toppling into the store. Bill ran as the zombies surged in. He ran to the back of the store, where he found a maintenance access door, with a keypad attached to the lock. Without even thinking, he punched in 3473, and the door clicked open. He blinked in surprise, before he realized what had happened, then opened the door and slammed it shut, listening to the lock sliding back into place.

Three seconds later, fists slammed against the door, shaking it, but Bill had already moved up the stairs into a ventilation room. From there he had climbed up a ladder through a trapdoor, onto the roof of the building. Bill thought "_I've got to stop going on roofs._" However, the zombies had reached the ladder, and were trying to pull themselves up it. Most of the zombies just fell off of it, but a few were making more progress each time they tried.

Bill looked around the building. It was two stories high, and all of the buildings that surrounded it were even taller. There was no chance of getting to another building from here, and the sky-walk was choked with zombies. As one zombie managed to pull itself up onto the roof, Bill made his choice. Once again, he threw himself away from the building, and fell down on to the middle of a grassy field, expecting to break his fall and run. However, what he didn't expect was the butt of the PSG1 to hit the back of his head, and smash it against the ground. Pain shot through him, and he felt himself lose consciousness, as an inhuman roar came rushing towards his location.

* * *

A/N= My stories are getting repetitive without another character, so I'm adding in other people.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

What Now?

Bill woke up slowly, with a throbbing pain in his head and pressure against his chest. He saw the world around him moving, and then realized that it was him who was moving. He looked down and saw that the pressure against his torso was an arm dragging him. Before he could think of what to do, whoever was carrying him set him on the ground, left Bill's backpack and weapons next to him, and then began to walk away. Bill pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked around. He was in a large dark room. There were no windows, but light came from a couple of light bulbs hanging from a ceiling.

"So, you've woken up." Bill turned his head and saw a silhouette of a man standing a short distance away. The darkness in the building combined with the light bulb behind him placed much of the man's torso and head into shadow. Bill stood up, wincing as he did so, and asked "What happened?"

The man remained decorous and replied: "I was looking for supplies when I heard moaning, and glass breaking. I stopped, and looked around for the source of the noise. I didn't see anything at first, but then I saw you fall off of a building and crash on the ground. I drove up in a hummer I had managed to hotwire a few hours ago, grabbed you and put you in the back seat and drove off."

Bill tried to be cordial, and joked, "Out of all vehicles, you used a Hummer? Weren't you worried about the noise being heard by other zombies, or running out of gas?"

The man chuckled, and said "Actually, I did run out of gas, about three-fourths of the way here. I had to ditch the Hummer, and drag you back. Fortunately, the zombies that had followed us saw the Hummer and not us, and tried to break into it instead of chasing me. It served as a pretty good distraction"

"So where am I?"

"A warehouse, on the west coast of town. This one is used for storing the cargo of some of the ships in the port. The crates in here don't hold any specific type of cargo, just anything that needs to be stored, from dolls to food, to computer, to …," he stopped and smiled to himself, but then continued, "I used some of the crates to barricade the door."

The man walked away, and disappeared into the shadows. A few seconds later, a light switch clicked and almost every light bulb in the room flickered on. Bill could now see most of the room, but what caught his attention the most was the light was illuminating the man's face and short blond hair. Instantly, Bill recognized him and said in surprise "You're the man who used the wheelbarrow!"

The person stopped and looked back, confused, "I'm what? My name is Jonathan."

Bill continued, "I saw you kill a zombie with a wheelbarrow; you threw it into a burning car." The man paused, and looked back at him."

A series a thuds interrupted their conversation. Both Bill and Jonathan turned towards where the noise was coming from. A giant locked double door that opened inwards and which was used for moving containers or trucks in and out of the warehouse was sitting the middle of a wall. The door was made out of some type of metal, was painted blue, and some of the small containers were placed next to it, barricading the door in case the lock broke. Bill asked, "Were you expecting anyone?"

Jonathan shook his head, then climbed up a ladder, strolled across a catwalk, and entered a room above the door. A few seconds later, a cough came out of the room, and the thuds stopped. Jonathan walked back out holding a berretta with a silencer attached.

After he climbed down the ladder, Bill asked "So, uh, Jonathan, what is the situation here? How much supplies do we have, food, bullets, exits?"

"First off, you can call me Jon. Second off, our supplies... thankfully, this place had a couple of containers that stored food. I've been living off of them since the start of the outbreak. I have enough food and water for us both for a week. We might be able to endure longer if we scavenge." He paused for a second, and then continued, "I think we will have to leave here eventually, and the sooner the better. We are on the far side of town, which means that we will be rescued last. Not to spread propaganda or anything, since the marines are exemplary, but they aren't going to succeed the first time they try, not against zombies."

Bill nodded his agreement, and said, "I'd prefer escaping the city and letting our tax dollars do the work. I was trying to escape through the northeast."

"Better than hoping you could emigrate in a time like this. Anyways, I have about twenty three bullets left for my berretta, because I've been using it to quietly take out any zombies that try to break in, before they attract more zombies. You have your two rifles, and however many bullets with them. And we do have one exit, near the back of this warehouse. It's a window, over a ditch outside. There are a couple of grooves in the wall near it, so you can climb back in, but a zombie won't figure it out. I think that we should grab all the food and water we need, open the front door, attract zombies inside, exit through the window, and close the door. Hopefully, this will trap at least some of the zombies in here, and they won't cause us anymore trouble."

Bill hesitated, and then said "Yeah, but what if the number of zombies is effusive, and we can't safely close the door? There is also the problem of whoever opens this warehouse will have just unleashed twenty or so more zombies on the streets, and then probably die."

"So, if I have a good answer, does that make a consensus? …Nevermind, I thought about that, and I was planning on taking out the zombies once they are trapped in here."

"How, there isn't much higher ground in here, except for the catwalk, and that has a metal ladder, that we can't cut, and the zombies could use it to get to you.

The odd smile to himself returned to Jon's face, as he said, "Remember when I said that these storage containers hold different materials? Well, do not ask me why, but one of these containers is storing packs of C-4."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

All Your Base are Belong to Us

"C-4 ...really? Your plan is to bomb this place to the ground?"

Despite Bill's rising voice, Jon remained calm and said, "Yes, I know how to use C-4, I could contain the blast, and we have enough to do so. Any zombies whose brains aren't destroyed won't be able to walk after us, for they won't have limbs. And, since this place is huge and the doors are secure, we could trap a lot of zombies in here and destroy a lot of zombies. It would make things a lot easier for us and the military, for there would be at least twenty less zombies chasing us."

"Yeah, but, the noise of the explosion will attract more! The explosion could set things on fire that could engulf the city and us! Shrapnel could hit us! It's already risky enough locking the door behind them.

"Not really, this place is extremely tough; I doubt the explosion or fires will make it outside this building. The walls of this building are fire proof, earthquake proof, incredibly sturdy, and thick. Why do you think they stored something like C-4 in here to begin with?"

Bill stared at him oddly, and said, "This seems a little too perfect, how did you know about this?"

Jon paused and scratched the back of his head before answering, "I was going for my doctorate in Engineering. That's how I know how to use C-4, and for the building... I chose it for an assignment. Our professor asked us to pick any building nearby, and write an essay on what could be improved, and what we would do to improve it. It came in handy when the zombies began attacking; I was able to use it to hide."

"Okay... but there is still the problem of how we are going to be able to get out of here." I don't like the idea of walking through a crowd of zombies isn't appealing to me. Is there another way out?"

"How did you think I scavenged for ammunition? Follow me." Jon turned and began to walk towards the back of the building. He led Bill through a couple of offices and up a flight of stairs. While they were walking, Jon said "All of these doors can be locked and secured, so we can be sure zombies won't follow us and escape. Anyways, here we are," as they reached a lone, ornately decorated office.

Bill walked over opened the florid shutters, and then backed up and raised an arm over his eyes, blinded by the sunlight that poured through. "What time is it?"

Jon replied, "About 6:13. Now, if you open this window..." He slid the window open and continued, "You have a way out." He gestured towards a group of niches and pieces of metal jutting out, forming a path to climb up or down the wall next to the wall. The pieces were too far apart and too small for a zombie to climb up, but a human could do it without it being fractious. "So, we pack up, set the trap, lock the doors, climb out, run around and lock the front doors, then watch the fireworks." They both walked back to the main chamber, where they had started.

Jon stopped, and then turned to Bill and said, "I still don't see how we get the zombies in here."

"I think I have an idea," Bill said while looking at a small container marked with the haughty logo: "Verizon Wireless." He walked up to the container and opened it, finding box after box filled with cell phones. "Give me a hand with this," Bill said, as he took several out and tested their battery.

"I think I know what you're up to," Jon said as he took out another cell phone, found its battery empty, and tossed it over his shoulder absentmindedly. After ten minutes, they had a small pile of phones in the middle of the ground, all of them set on high, and all of them ready to play different ring-tones in loops.

"Well," Jon said, "The bait's there, but the trap isn't. He walked towards the container holding the C-4 charges and said, "Get something to eat, and then pack your stuff. Bring ammunition, food, water, and medical supplies, almost everything else will be useless if we want to endure this epidemic." Bill nodded, and left.

Fifteen minutes later, Bill was done and testing the detonators. Another forty-five minutes and Jon had set the explosives, placing them around the center of the building. Together, they pushed the containers out of the way, and unlocked the main door, opening it a little bit.

Bill and Jon ran to the cell phones and began hitting "Play" on all of them. Soon, beeps, whistles, and sirens were blaring out of the door, and towards the city. Within moments, zombies had begun to show up, investigating the source of the noise. Bill and Jon wasted no time, sprinting across the chamber in a frenetic manner, limbs flying through the air to give them every bit of momentum they could gain.

About three-fourths of the way across, Bill looked back and slowed down. The zombies hadn't even made it a forth of the way across the building. It was ironic to be running for your life from danger that could be out walked. It would have been so funny, if it wasn't so scary. He sprinted through the door, and locked it behind him. Then continued to the next door, where Jon locked it and then toppled a desk in front of it for good measure. They proceeded in such a fashion, locking and/or barricading the doors and halls in their way, then made it to the window. Bill climbed halfway down and then jumped, and raised his rifle. Jon landed next to him and they ran towards the front of the building, stopping at the corner. They peered out around the corner.

An effusive flood of at least forty-five zombies were shuffling into the warehouse. Half of the cell phones had been destroyed, quieting the noise, but the remaining cell phones were still attracting the remaining zombies inside. As soon as the back of the mob had moved twenty-five feet in the building, Jon and Bill quietly ran inside and began to pull the doors shut. The last couple of zombies turned around and started walking towards them, but it was far too late. The door slammed shut with a satisfying slam, and the zombies pressed against it, trying to shove it open, not realizing that they should have pulled the doors open, not pushed.

Bill and Jon ran out a couple of hundred feet, and then Jon activated the detonator. The resulting explosion was so impressive that it deserved its own genre for exemplary visual experiences. The ground vibrated, the building shook, and the doors and windows were blasted off of their hinges, but the fire died down, and the building stood. All that was left of the zombies were ash.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Interlude

He walked inside the room, and heard the door lock behind him. He walked around the table, and sat in the chair. Normally, he would have been escorted to it, but he knew what was expected of him, and the guards knew he wouldn't try anything. It had become a routine for them, as fractious as it was.

He resisted the urge to rest his head on the table and take a nap. He didn't want to show any emotion in here. It was fine outside, to an extent. However, in here he must remain indifferent, he must show no weakness. It would stall their efforts, and might even dispel the idea of him being a heinous person, even if only for a little while.

Turning his thoughts back to the present, he began preparing himself for the trail ahead. He came up with possible tactics they might use, and his reactions to them. He knew they wouldn't use the hackneyed "good cop, bad cop" routine, that had already failed twice, to the frustration of the haughty ingrates that run this place.

He didn't have to wait long, the lock snapped open, and Alexander walked through, looking anything but frenetic. He was known for having a cool disposition, something that always angered his opponents when they were already mad. He would sit calmly, and respond softly, but used logic to twist his opponent's words in every single direction possible. He calmly walked to the other chair and sat down. "So," he began, "Simon Devlin Moore…"

Simon quickly interrupted, "No files?"

Alexander stopped midsentence, but then recovered and said "I don't need them. Anyways, what is the… disease called?"

"I think the most common word being screamed by the fleeing humans is 'zombie.'"

Alexander's face hardened, and he said, "I meant the virus."

Simon smiled, although he felt like grimacing. They already knew it was a virus. They were farther ahead than he had expected. "Solanum."

"How were you able to create it?"

Simon struggled to keep his teeth from clenching and said in a low, angry voice "I didn't create it. I didn't discover it. It was known before I was born. All I did was simply rediscover it."

"What do you mean by 'rediscover'?"

"I mean that I found it, but it had already been discovered and named. I found it after extensive research, on the internet, word of mouth, and several 'stories' lying around. It took me about three years, give or take a few months.."

"So, why did you have the virus? It must have been rare."

"You assumed I did?"

"I know you did. We raided that building you were using as a laboratory." We couldn't crack the computers, but we found the samples."

"Fair enough. I had the virus to study it, obviously. It was secured in what we called Lab 3, and when I say secure, I mean it. Miles from any type of residential area, fences, razor wire, thick steel doors, reinforced structures. We had plans A, B, C, D, E, and F.

"We?"

"I had two assistants and two zombies. One zombie had been picked up a year ago, by me. The other I had bought in a black market a few months earlier. Then, one of my assistants got drunk, and wound up with the two zombies, making a third. By that point, I had enough resources to take samples for the virus, which of course, I did so. We ran tests. I was making good progress, and I had recorded almost everything that needed to be. Almost, there were a few conditions that prevented me from learning everything I could, but that was to be expected."

"So, then you released it into the public to see what would happen, as an experiment?"

Simon looked up again, with a grin that would have unnerved anyone, apart from Alexander, who hadn't moved, and said simply, "Oh, it got released, but what makes you think I did it?"

Alexander hesitated, and then said "It would have been a realistic test. You would have learned anything you wanted. Your research would have been complete?

Simon nodded and said "Yes, but wouldn't it have been a little risky. I could easily have died, and that would make anything I learned irrelevant.

"You had already studied the zombies. You knew what to do, and how to do it."

"True, but the risk would have been too large. Murphy's First would be a big factor, especially with how quickly it spread."

"Well, if you didn't release it, then that leaves one person who did." Simon sighed, but this time, Alexander noticed that the sigh was due more to irritation, rather than frustration or exhaustion. Guessing that he was on the right track, Alexander kept pressing, "You're assistant… he released it, didn't he?"

A/N= Finally, this one is updated. It took me a month and a half due to distraction, procrastination, and my dad trying to keep me from even touching my computer.

This is the last chapter I wrote for school.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

No Trespassing-Violators Will be Eaten

By now, the city had quieted down. For most people, the battle had been lost, and the zombies were now the dominant predator. As they roamed the streets, hunting for more prey moans could be heard in some areas, and then silenced a few minutes later. Humans still occupied the city, desperately trying to hunt the predators, or to escape them. Few had survived, even fewer continued to retain hope.

A street lay in ruins. Parts of the sidewalk had been chipped off and lay broken in the gutter. Automobiles had been crashed into walls or simply abandoned in the street. Corpses littered the street, some still clutching weapons, others . The sun blazed overhead, illuminating the ghastly scene below.

Two shadows advanced through the street, followed by quiet footsteps. Had anyone been watching, it would have been hard to notice the slow, steady movements in the street. But no one, alive or infected, was interested in the street, or anything in it. Of course, this was perfect for Bill and Jon, who were the ones moving through the graveyard of corpses and cars. Bill was trying to keep in the shadows, and move smoothly through the area, but Jon was acting like it was a casual stroll. He quietly walked with his gun aimed at the ground, and his head nodding to some unknown tune.

After a few minutes, he suddenly stopped and pointed. Across the street was an abandoned and damaged gun store. Jon asked "Do you feel like stocking up on ammo," but Bill was already moving towards it. He took out his crowbar, but found it was unnecessary, the door to the gun store already had its lock broken. He and Jon slowly pushed the door open and walked inside, guns raised. Unsurprisingly, the entire store had been looted and trashed. There were even a couple of blood stains here and there, but no bodies. Jon walked over to and empty case, reached down, and pulled out a black suppressor. "Typical," he said, "they take all the weapons and ammo that they can find, but they don't bother to think about stealth. Oh well, our gain." He tossed it to Bill and said, "It should fit your PSG, try it." Bill caught it Jon and tested it. As expected, the suppressor fit perfectly.

Bill and Jon found nothing else of interest in the store, and left. Their next stop was a fenced off vehicle lot next to a four story building. The gate had already been broken open, and lay in three pieces in the road.

A sign stood at the edge, planted in a small patch of dirt. It read "This property is protected by Guardog Security Inc." Lying next to the sign were several corpses and bullet shells. Unfortunately for the owners of the property, security cameras were not very helpful when the police force was already distracted by a zombie attack.

Jon moved to the few cars in the parking lot, and began to check them to see if any were in a good enough condition to hot-wire, while Bill stood at the edge of the lot and let his gaze sweep back and forth across the streets. Zombies didn't have enough intelligence to bother with stealth, but he never knew when hostile survivors might decide he was a good target.

His guard duty was interrupted when he heard Jon say, "Y'know, I've been thinking."

Bill partially turned around and asked, "About what?"

Jon was standing next to a red pick-up truck, his hands still on the opened hood. He said with a rare serious expression, "About the response to this infection. How much warning did you have before it, and then during it? For me, I had practically no warning, until the zombies were scratching at my door, and the T.V. was telling me to evacuate the city. The change in alertness just went too suddenly, if you ask me. One second the media is telling you zombies don't exist, the very next second they are telling you _exactly_ how to kill them. How did that happen? How did they get accurate information so quickly?"

Bill, surprised, said, "I hadn't noticed that, but you're right. ...The problem, is I don't see how that works, logically. How did so many people find out about it at once? It's not likely that they already knew, you couldn't keep a secret from the masses while telling a huge portion of them the secret."

Jon simply stated, "Someone obviously has some sort of secret agenda, but who, what, and how? Also, if you are right, why? What did they gain by telling the secret almost immediately?"

Bill said, "Maybe the secret was spread out more than we thought." He hesitated, and then asked, "For example, did you know about zombies before this... infection?"

Jon looked him squarely in the eye and asked, "Did you?" The result was a long, awkward silence between them.

The silence was eventually interrupted by the sound of metal being knocked over a few blocks down. They both turned and looked down the street, but only saw a trash can lid roll across the street before bumping into the sidewalk and falling down. "Well, we should probably move," Jon said as he pulled a street map out of the truck. "At least, now we know where to go."

Bill nodded, and began walking around the edge of the building, his back to the wall. However, a pipe attached to the outside of the corner partially blocked his vision, and forced him to step away from the wall in order to pass it.

Bill stepped out around the corner and froze. A cold metal cylinder was pressed against the side of his head. There was no need to guess what it was.

* * *

A/N= Wow, what has it been? Three, four months? My procrastination was terrible. I blame camping, schoolwork, and StarCraft II.

It also took a while, because I was (and still am) reluctant to release this chapter. It just seemed too random, and the dialogue was too awkward, but I wasn't able to think of a better way to write it.

So, as usual, R&R. Hopefully the next chapter won't take me four months.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Ambush after Ambush

"Don't move. Good, now place your weapon on the ground. Slowly! Okay, now carefully step out into the open."

Bill raised his hands to the level of his head and took one step, then another, and then another until he was about ten feet from the corner. He slowly turned to face his adversary. The man was wielding aiming a M16-A3 at Bill's heads. He wore a mottled green trench coat that dropped down to his knees. He had light skin, dark brown hair, and blue eyes that focused on Bill's forehead, conveniently the same place the rifle was aimed.

Jon had seen the barrel of the rifle against Bill's head and heard the aggressor's demands. He flattened himself against the wall and held his Beretta in both hands, making sure the suppressor was secure. As Bill moved away from the corner, Jon moved slowly and silently.

"Alright, I'm gonna ask you some questions," the man said, "and you're going to answer them. First, who are y-"

Jon, recognizing his opportunity, moved. He spun around the corner and brought up his Beretta, only to have it crash against the pipe, making a "_CLANG_" noise. The man in the trench coat spun around and aimed the M16 at Jon's head, meeting Jon's gun pointed squarely at his forehead.

They stood there for a second, both of them staring down the barrel of a weapon, both of them wielding a weapon that could take away the life of the other in less than a second, both of them knowing that the other was ready to pull the trigger. Then the man spoke, "Stalemate."

Jon grinned and said, "Not quite." The man's expression froze, and then he slowly turned his head to see Bill raising his TAR-21 and an amused expression on his face.

The man's face fell, along with his gun. As Jon moved forward and kicked the rifle away the man raised his hands slightly and said "Well, crap."

"Now, we ask the questions," Bill said. "For starters, who are you?"

"Mike, Mike Sten."

"Why did you attack us?"

"I didn't. Shooting you would be attacking you, I just wanted you off the premises."

Jon's face tightened as he said, "It's the same in my book."

Mike simply shrugged, and said, "If I just wanted to mug you, then I would have shot you in the head as soon as you stepped around the corner, and took what I wanted." Seeing that they didn't believe him, he continued, "It wouldn't have been the first time I killed someone."

Either he was telling the truth, or he had one of the best poker faces in the world. Either way, Bill wasn't going to press it. "What are you doing here?"

"I am… was part of the security team here."

"GuarDog security?"

"No, all they do is security cameras and alarm systems. It doesn't scare off an intruder as much as an armed guard does."

"Is there anyone else here?"

"No, I've been holding out here."

"How is that possible?" Jon was staring at Mike with an analyzing face. "There are signs of a battle everywhere, a battle that the zombies won. So, how did you stay alive here if humans lost?"

"That's pretty simple, we didn't lose." Before Jon could cut in Mike continued, "It wasn't a 'last stand' battle, we made a run for it. Broke a hole through the wall and took off, myself included. Five hours later my superiors want me back here for a Torch and Burn mission. Destroy the computers, leave no files."

Jon snorted and said, "What, are they afraid zombies are going to read for once."

"I'm pretty sure they were much more concerned with the looters. My superiors are pretty paranoid about their projects and marketing strategies getting released to the media. I never saw the point of it, since I caught a few glances of it and it looks just like the same stuff every other company is using."

"So the computers are all destroyed."

"Yeah, but it's not my work. I got here and practically every computer was fried already. No hard drive was intact. Well, there is something that was strange about it. One computer was left alone, the one used to supervise all the other computers. It stores no information, except for what happens to each computer. But what was odd, was that no information was copied or moved recently. Whoever destroyed the computers didn't take anything from them first, but what's the point in that? Destroying all of the computers had to be a deliberate move, so it couldn't have been a random zombie or psycho breaking stuff to look tough. But then what was the motive?"'

Bill simply shook his head and said, "We aren't concerned with that. We want to get out of this city in one piece."

Mike grinned and said, "You guys too? Mind if I tag along?" His proposal was met with stares.

Jon said, "Less than three minutes ago you were pointing a gun at us, and now you expect us to simply let that go?"

"Oh yeah, I had sort of forgotten about that…"

Fighting the urge to introduce his palm to his face, Jon stated, "Even if dropped that issue, we probably wouldn't have enough supplies for three people."

Bill added, "And we have no idea if we can trust you."

"Well, for supplies, I have my M16-A3 and three clips of thirty, plus two Desert Eagles and a total of four clips of seven for those, and a knife."

Jon said incredulously, "You have all that with you?"

Mike chuckled, "This trench coat has its uses. As for the trust issue," he made eye contact with Bill "Just take a couple things into account. First, I could have killed you earlier. I chose not to. Second, I could have reached for either of my Desert Eagles, but once again, I didn't. Third, the only reason I stopped you was because I thought you had something to do with the computers. However, whatever I say to gain your trust can be a lie as easily at it could be the truth. I have no say over if you'll trust me or not."

There was a long pause. Jon's eyes kept on shifting to Bill and then back to Mike. Then, finally, Bill slowly lowered his rifle and said, "I'm probably going to regret this."

Mike picked up his assault rifle and held it loosely. "Maybe not. Remember, I used to be part of the security force here, I can get you inside this building. It'd be a good place to sleep tonight, unless you want to be out on the streets."

Bill asked, "Is it secure?"

"Yeah, I examined every room when I was looking for the computers. After that I locked all the doors, and barricaded all but one. That one backdoor is the only way in or out."

* * *

As they moved through the building Mike stumbled over a fallen chair. Muttering to himself, he reached out and snapped on the light switch. The light bulbs flickered to life, illuminating the room and hallway. Jon walked into the room and checked the corners, but Bill stayed where he was, staring at the light. He managed to say, "Uh, guys?"

Jon turned around and asked, "What?"

Bill pointed up at the closest lightbulb. Jon, confused, stared at it for a few seconds, but then he realized what was so odd about it. He murmured, "You're right..." but didn't do anything else.

Staring at the two of them, Mike said, "Yeah, it's a lightbulb pal, it makes light."

Jon snapped out of his trance and said "Yes, but why is it on?"

Mike hesitantly said, "Because... I flipped the light swi-" and stopped in midsentence. Now, he too was looking at the glass bulb curiously. He walked into and adjacent room and turned on another light switch. Sure enough, the few lights in that room lit up. After a few seconds of staring, Mike sputtered, "But... how? The electricity for almost the entire city is down! How is this working?"

Jon said "You were part of the security team, right? Do they have any emergency generators?

Mike shook his head and said, "No, I'm absolutely sure they don't. We were discussing what to do in case of emergency situations. One of those situations was a power outage, and they said they didn't even have rechargeable batteries, let alone a generator big enough for this building."

While they discussed this, Bill searched the room, eventually ending up near the window. He opened it, and looked outside, then said, "I think I found the answer." Jon and Mike to him, and followed his gaze to a nearby metal tower, that was supporting several power cables above the ground. The cables hummed with power, as electricity coursed through them, in and out of the building.

"Maybe someone has their own generator," Mike offered.

Bill replied, "Why would it be hooked up to power cables that are suspended between different buildings. And by the looks of it, those cables don't end nearby. This took a lot of time and money, so what was worth all the effort?"

Jon said with a grin, "Well, I'm up for following it, we've got enough time before dark."

* * *

One hour later they stood behind a cluster of buildings. The power cables had led directly into a five-story structure. The word "building" was an understatement, this was a fortress. Two lines of chain-link fences complete with barbed wire on top surrounded the structure. It seemed that all parts of the property had been reinforced, the main doors were steel, the gate was thick and opened outwards, and the windows seemed to be designed for sniping. As if to add to the effect, corpses were lying around the building. Bill, Jon, and Mike had to hide behind other buildings and only managed to gather glimpses of it. Mike began to walk out towards the building, but Bill's hand snapped out and pulled on the back of Mike's coat, dragging him back. Mike gruffly asked "What's your problem?"

Bill pointed and said, "See those bodies? They are all dead, and grouped together forming a semi-circle around the building. If you look closely, all of the corpses were facing that building when they died. It also seems that most of them have bullet holes in their heads. What does that mean to you?"

Mike looked at the corpses and said to himself, "...Sniper..." He lifted up a human corpse into a standing position, and began to use it as a puppet. He slowly extended its arm out into the view of the fortress, and waved it up and down a few times. Then, after adjusting his grip, he moved the rest of the corpse's body out from behind the building. As soon as the head was in plain view of the building, a bullet ripped through it, jerking the head and neck backwards. Mike was so shocked that he forgot to drop it. The sniper apparently realized he had been tricked and began to fire rapidly, trying to hit Mike's arms through the body. However, by this time Mike had regained his sense and yanked his hands back, dropping the body onto the ground. Bullets flew through the air, ripping through the body before it hit the ground.

Bill moved to the edge of the corner, and picked a fragment of a mirror off of the ground. Holding it by the edge, he extended it out and used it to view the windows. None of them had any hint of metal in them, but he knew what that meant. The snipers were trained to keep their barrels inside the shade, thus preventing them from being seen. As if on cue, the mirror shattered as another bullet landed near them.

"Is there any way to signal them, tell them to stop shooting, let them know we're humans," Mike said as he frantically searched for something useful.

"I think they already know we're human," Bill said as he stepped away from the corner. "They keep the barrels of their guns away from the sunlight, which means they are professional. At that level of intelligence, it is unlikely they think zombies have the intelligence to use mirrors." He looked at Mike and said, "I'm pretty sure they know we're human, and they want us dead anyways."

Jon began to analyze the streets and search for an escape route. "It doesn't matter; staying here any longer isn't a good idea. It's going to be night soon, and I want to be back in our building before then."

* * *

A/N= Merry Christmas everyone! Here's my gift to you: another chapter! It took me a while… I warned you that I'm a procrastinator.

I had even stopped working on this for a while. What motivated me to continue was opening up my e-mail for the first time in a month and finding out that some people had reviewed my story, and one person had even subscribed.

New Year's Resolution: Work harder on this story.

P.S.

Does anyone know of a working line break that I can use? I've seen some stories that use numbers, but I don't like that one very much. Or should I just stick to the default line breaks used in the editor?


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